100 Percent Pure
by OctoberOpal
Summary: Willy Wonka wasn't always alone. Once he had a friend. A best friend, who helped inspire him to be the chocolatier he is today. He wishes to see her again, and perhaps his new competition will bring them together again. Willy Wonka/OC.
1. Fanciful Fantasies

**So, I had the idea for the fic after the death of Mr. Gene Wilder (R.I.P., you will always be remembered and loved!) and watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory twice a day. I wanted to have it finished before I published, but seeing how fluttering my inspiration is, I'm still not done yet. But I want to publish so bad that I'm doing it now.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **~~**I**~~**

 **Fanciful Fantasies**

Willy Wonka gently swayed his head to the tune playing from his piano, feeling the notes underneath his fingers. The slow notes, long and lingering, light and tingling.

" _Come with me, and you'll be,_ " Wonka hummed, ticking the notes to match his tone, " _in a world of pure imagination._ " Pure imagination. A world of color and music, joy and wonder, light and butterscotch ripple.

"Of course!" Wonka exclaimed. "Strawberry butterscotch ripple!" But as soon as the thought came to mind, his face fell softly. "Oh, I forgot. Tried that already." It was one of his first creations, conceived from merely looking upon the whorls and curly cues that were painted all over his piano. Reds, pinks, browns, oranges and tans, along with a little bit of white. All painted by her over the course of several years. Several patches of little patterns that were all different but fit so cohesively against the dark brown wood of his piano. And not to forget the tiny strawberry painted on the high C.

Jacqueline had always loved strawberries, ever since they were kids and well into their college years. Even when he last spoke to her she doted on her lovely strawberry plants. And she had a strawberry-shaped face with a beaming smile that shined from the frame set on his stand. She gently held onto the hand of her infant daughter, having just kissed that little fist. And standing so close to her was her husband, holding that little child and kissing her temple. There was nothing as pure as they.

"'Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love'," Wonka sighed dreamily. Pure love, pure life, and pure joy encompassed all she did. From the time they were children, they were drawn together by the 100% pure. The joy of fun and laughter and creativity.

 _"William! Wait for me!" A nine-year-old Jacqueline called after him, her copper hair streaming after her as she ran to catch up to him._

 _"No, we must hurry!" he turned around and called behind him, still running._

 _"The candy shop isn't going anywhere!" she cried, laughing._

 _"You won't say that once it's gone!" Young Willy called, but he did stop a second for Jacqueline to catch up, grabbing her hand when she did and hauling her behind him. Many of the adults viewed this action between the two of them as an oddity. Young boys and girls their age did not spend as much time together as Willy and Jacqueline did. Boys tumbled around on front lawns and in the middle of streets while girls sat and played house inside. But those two sat on opposite sides of a canvas, painting and singing songs and talking non-stop about sweets they wanted to eat._

 _And that's where they were headed now. To the candy shop, to try even more candy confections and combinations. Willy still had his list!_

 _"Don't forget, we must put together chocolate and lemon drops!" he called._

 _"Lemon drops?!" she laughed._

 _"It's perfect! Sweet and sour!" Willy explained to her._

 _"But how will a hard candy taste with melted chocolate?"_

 _That had Willy stumped, so much that he'd stopped running without realizing it. How could they perfectly mesh together the moment of sour flavor from a wash of melted chocolate? He hadn't thought of how he would do it?_

 _"William?" Jacqueline voiced softly. She was the only one allowed to call him that. "What's wrong?"_

 _"I hadn't thought of that?" he replied._

 _She shrugged slightly. "We could have a bite of chocolate, let it melt on our tongues, and then do the same to the candy? And then another bite of chocolate as to not run out."_

 _Willy grinned. "Perfect!" He continued on, tugging on her hand to follow. Her breathy laughter skipped along the whole way._

Jacqueline had always been there to bounce ideas from, whether it was candy, music, or painting. She would spout off color combinations and he would put flavors to them, concocting all sorts of sweets between the two of them. She had that same twinkle in her eye in that picture as she did in that memory.

He imagined her to be the same today. It had been so long since they'd last spoken or even exchanged a single letter, what with him in Surrey and she still in New York. He has his chocolate factory to run and she had a child and a loving husband to care for. Oh, and portraits to paint. In bright colors, just like the cherry pink knitted cardigan she wore in that photo. It had been a gift from him, and the picture was also taken by him. Jacqueline, Roger and little Clarice.

How young was the little girl now? Ten? Twelve? No doubt she still had the same coppery hair and hazel eyes as her mother. Did she wear glasses like Roger did? Hard to tell. It had been so long. So long since he had last spoken to his closest friend. How had he lasted so long without someone he'd shared so many years with? But perhaps it wouldn't be that much longer. Perhaps he could see her after the contest. Yes, he could do just that!

He hadn't realized he'd stopped playing until a tap came at his elbow. "Oh," he exclaimed softly, looking down at one of the Oompa Loompas handing him the afternoon paper. "Oh, thank you, Loomis."

Unfolding the soft paper down, Wonka took in the headline that would be sent out within the hour. Honestly, he didn't expect the first page. Third, at least. But, placing the slight surprise aside, he read the heading:

 **Mr. Willy Wonka, the candy-making genius whom nobody has seen for the last ten years, sent out the following notice today.**

The Six Golden Tickets. Giving the opportunity of having six children allowed inside his chocolate factory. Six. It was her lucky number. She was born on the sixth month of the year, at six in the evening, her favorite color was the sixth in the rainbow (purple, as was Wonka's), she won ten dollars from a lotto scratcher by the lucky number six, and the two of them had met when they were both six years old.

And he sent out the notice on the sixth of the month. It was just right.

At that thought, an idea sparked in Wonka's mind. And before he left he checked the clock.

Six o'clock.

* * *

 _She was using blue. That had Willy in a bit of a slump. There weren't many blue foods, let alone sweet flavors other than blueberries and he wasn't in that mood. Everything else was more a purplish color. But watching her fiddle with the different tones of that one color distracted him. She had a bit of white in there, but again, only blueberries and cream came to Willy's mind and he was not of blueberry persuasion at the moment._

 _He scratched his head, trying to come up with_ some _sort of idea for the school project, but nothing came to mind. When their charter school held another of their art festivals, the ideas poured from students. The art specialty school was famous for its art festival. It had, not only artworks as Jacqueline was working on, but moving pictures (one of their classmates, Joey, was near in making an animation in the like of Walt Disney, it was wonderful), photography, music students who played all around the park, face-painting (of which Jacqueline would help service), teaching dance, poetry, and a small concert during after the main activities, and of course, food. Willy was banking on having the most spectacular confection that anyone had ever tasted._

 _But the sixteen-year-old Willy was having no such ideas to back it up._

 _"You've been quiet, William," Jacqueline commented, glancing over her shoulder. She dipped her brush on her palette and turned back to the wall. She couldn't use her easel this time, as the canvas she was working on was far too big to hold it. Hopefully it would fit in the back of her father's truck come punch time._

 _"I thought you came for some peace and quiet," he chuckled in reply. Indeed, she was often at the Wonka house to get away from her noisy house. At least it used to be noisy and crowded with four siblings. It made Willy thankful he was an only child and not having to share a room with any brothers as Jacqueline had to with her two older sisters. Now it was just her and her younger brother, but the daily visits persisted and she was always welcome._

 _"From pesky little brothers, not my best friend," she replied with a grin._

 _Willy smiled but shook his head and said nothing. She said that yes, but on the contrary, Jacqueline had a close relationship with her little brother. Not as close as those two were, but close enough._

 _When he failed to respond, she put down her palette and turned to him fully. "What is it?" Her hazel-green eyes furrowed in concern._

 _"I don't know what to make," he replied simply with a shrug._

 _Jacqueline_ _tilted her head. "That doesn't sound like you."_

 _"It might be because I'm feeling blue," he said, nodding toward her canvas._

 _She glanced back at it and laughed. "Well, your sense of humor is still intact, so it's just a little slump."_

 _"It's not a slump," he rounded back, picking himself up from the floor. "It's this blue you're using. There's nothing I can think up of with the color blue! And don't go saying blueberries!"_

 _"I wasn't," she replied calmly. "And you don't have to watch me paint."_

 _"But I love watching you paint," he told her. "It helps me think." But not pacing, which he didn't know why he was doing it now. This must have been a real slump._

 _Jacqueline_ _caught him by the arms was he turned back to him. "William, calm down," she attempted soothing him. "We have three weeks until the festival. And this portrait isn't going to be finished instantly, either." She jerked her thumb at her canvas. Indeed, the first step of it was to cover the whole thing with a soft sea green and let it dry._

 _But that didn't comfort Willy. He pulled from her grip and jerked around, only to bump right into her painting table. He bumbled right into it and caused it to tumble._

 _"William, are you alright?!" Jacqueline cried, coming to his side and hauling him up. He was probably as messy as her overalls were._

 _"I'm fine," he told her. And thankfully he knocked the paints_ away _from her canvas. He didn't want to ruin her project on top of being stumped about his._

 _"Thankfully this room is hardwood floor," Jacqueline commented._

 _Willy nodded. The art room. It was arranged by Willy's parents with how inclined to paint the two were. They both did as kids, though while Jacqueline continued to follow it, Willy did less and less. Regardless, the Wonka's allowed it to be itso-facto Jacqueline's art room away from home._

 _He looked down at the assortment of paints on the partially covered floor. It was mostly the blues that Jacqueline used, but there also was a purplish-red and yellow mixed in when a random thought crossed Jacqueline's mind for another project. The colors started bleeding together where they met and the two did spark something._

 _"Figs," Willy muttered._

 _"What?"_

 _"Figs," Willy repeated. "Mama Jean's out picking figs." His mother loved her fruit plants in the back yard. The Wonkas were loaded with assortments of fruits and vegetables. Jacqueline often returned home with a basket full._

 _Jacqueline_ _beamed. "Did inspiration just strike?"_

 _Willy beamed right back before taking her hand and making for the back yard._

* * *

Jacqueline Bowman held her thumb up to the smudge long since dried on the portrait's upper left side. The smudge was a bit larger than her own thumb, the owner having bigger hands than she, and never failed to bring a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Willy Wonka was quite the coordinated man, but he did make a few stumbles every once in a while. And he hadn't stopped apologizing when he accidentally tried picking up the canvas when he shouldn't have.

It had been oh so long since she'd last heard from him. A letter from ten years ago was it. Months after, he'd closed his factory due to his competitors stealing his recipes. Jacqueline wanted to so much to contact him and just talk to him, but he'd all but fell off the face of the earth. His parents only got a short word from him every several months. And after he reopened his factory, no one had seen him, Jacqueline included.

She missed him. He'd been her one best friend throughout childhood. Even though she was well involved with her community, there was something she felt that was...missing from her life. Or perhaps she was feeling it harder now that her husband had been dead for a year now.

Jacqueline sighed. It felt both shorter and longer than just a year since the car crash. Her dearest Roger. After sixteen years of building a life together, the rest was taken prematurely from them. Even their two-story house was all but built by the two of them, like breaking down the wall of the small office room and the bedroom next to it to make a music room for Roger. And then making the garage into an art studio for Jacqueline. Also the gazebo in the corner of the backyard and the extension of the porch. Extending a small sitting area in the family room that looked out into the street for when Jacqueline wanted to sip hot chocolate and watch the snow fall. All of that had been done together. And now...? The ache in her chest was more repetitive than anything, always having her placing a hand on her chest as if the movement could chase it away. This time it did like clockwork, but Jacqueline didn't feel much better afterwards.

She stepped into the kitchen and held her hand over the oiled pan to see if it was hot enough before cracking some eggs and then pulling down the filled toaster nearby.

Making her way down the hall, Jacqueline gently opened the door to her daughter's room. Her bright red hair could just be seen poking out of the sheets as well as her toes at the bottom. She was also snoring.

Her daughter hadn't taken Roger's death much better. She barely left her bed for a week after she lost her daddy. And there was nothing Jacqueline could say to make her feel better. She could only rub her daughter's back after she had cried herself to sleep. But in the end, they both picked themselves back up and continued on. They managed.

Jacqueline approached the bed and nudged her daughter's leg. "Wake up, Clara," she cooed.

The fourteen-year-old groaned loudly. Jacqueline chuckled, nudging harder. "It's time to get up, sweetie."

Clara just groaned harder.

Jacqueline snorted. "Up, Clarice." Her daughter was _not_ a morning person.

With one last grunt (her daughter did not favor her full name), Clara shoved her bright sheets off. She would be another minute or two.

"Breakfast will be ready in a bit," Jacqueline told her, heading back to the kitchen. She had just finished drizzling honey on the scrambled eggs when she heard Clara plop down at the table and pour herself a glass of orange juice. Jacqueline slid two plates of eggs, toast and sausage for both herself and her daughter and settled at the table.

"Don't be so glum, sweetheart," Jacqueline chuckled at her daughter's dead-tired morning face. "It's Friday. You and Dot finished your history project and after school we'll go to Uncle Thomas's candy shop."

It had the right effect on her daughter. Clara's eyes lit up slightly behind her wire-rimmed glasses. "Can I get two Wonka bars this time?" she asked.

"Perhaps," Jacqueline replied, smiling when Clara sprouted a grin. "If you two bring home an A." She laughed when her daughter groaned. "You'd better get an A. That portrait of Queen Elizabeth is some of my best work!" Their assignment was on old historical figures and the girls had chosen the old English queen as the subject.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure Mr. Andrews will give high marks to your brushwork," she deadpanned. "But we'll still go out for Wonka Bars after school, right?"

"Of course," Jacqueline said, "but you'll have to get an A if you want your two chocolate bars."

"What if I get a B+?" Clara asked.

"We'll negotiate," Jacqueline told her with a wink.

* * *

The glamour and luxury was something Jacqueline couldn't quite get used to, but at least she could understand the appeal her sister was drawn to. It was too loud and frivolous and almost a waste of time. Almost. She had to admit there were times when large parties were fun and memorable. The warm lights, the boisterous energy, the mixed scents of women's perfume and men's cologne, and the light music made a beautiful setup. And her dark blue evening dress did make her feel more beautiful.

And the only reason Jacqueline agreed to go out tonight was because she couldn't say no to her older sister when she visited from California. After making Clara and her friends dinner (insisting the girls not wait up for her), Jacqueline dressed and was dragged off to a lavish party, catching up with her older sister. She divorced yet again and was Margery Wakefield once more. Jacqueline hadn't known until she'd inquired about her brother-in-law, to which Margery replied shortly with, "We're divorced." Jacqueline said no more, but couldn't help her disappointment.

But that didn't stop Margery from striving for companionship and scoping out the many handsome bachelors at the party. Some for herself and even hints for Jacqueline.

"He's a handsome one," Margery leaned in and whispered to Jacqueline, inclining her head to an indeed handsome dark-haired man.

"Then go talk to him," Jacqueline retorted, not missing Margery's subtly.

"I didn't drag you out here so you could huddle at the sidelines," Margery said, taking a sip of her champagne. "It's still healthy for women our age to socialize with handsome men."

"He's probably no older than thirty," Jacqueline replied. "A boy, really." A year shy of forty herself, she was not going to dally with young men, if she were to dally at all.

"That's the point," Margery suggested slyly. "He'll make you feel young again."

"I have a daughter for that."

Margery snorted. "I thought children would make you feel _old._ "

"Depends on the child," Jacqueline replied. Going to the chocolate store every Friday, painting together, and playing music with Clara did bring some of the old childhood nostalgia every once in a while. It reminded her of her time with William.

"What about when she's left the house?" Margery asked.

Jacqueline shrugged and shook her head. "I haven't thought of it. And why are you trying to pair me up anyway?"

In a spare moment of compassion, Margery wrapped her arm around Jacqueline's shoulders. "Roger won't hate you for moving on. You don't have to spend the rest of your life alone for the sake of his memory. You deserve to be happy."

Jacqueline smiled sadly, glad that her sister wasn't entirely superficial. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to go on a string of dates you set me up on."

Margery groaned and rolled her eyes. "Well, if you're not going to have any fun, I'll have to for the both of us." She downed the rest of her champagne and made for the handsome young man, Jacqueline staring after her, scandalized. She watched as her older sister tapped the man's shoulder and moved her hand down to his, gesturing toward the ring of dancers. He replied with a soft smile and allowed her to lead him over.

How did Margery do that? Not that Jacqueline wanted to do the same herself, but it was remarkable how her older sister could almost command the men around her to take interest. Then again, she'd caught Roger's eye quite quickly and held it effortlessly, as she reflected every once in a while. Roger called her the apple of his eye and even wrote songs about her which he'd sing while playing his guitar on the picnics in the park where they first met. Ironically, Jacqulene had the romanticism in her life that Margery strove for but couldn't yet achieve.

But she couldn't be too judgmental of her sister's lifestyle. Margery was always like that long before she stepped onto Hollywood and pursued an acting career. She handled herself well enough.

Jacqueline couldn't imagine if Roger were to ever gain that kind of recognition in this time as a musician. Not that he would have been the Frank Sinatra or Elvis Presley or Buddy Holly, but he could have made a decent name for himself. No, instead he was just a small local musician and studio recorder.

For all her artistic talent, Jacqueline couldn't quite get the hang of instruments the way Roger and, in effect, Clara had. Sure she could play the piano and guitar, but her rhythm wasn't always the best. Even now she cringed at the many times she brushed the wrong note.

William was wonderful on the piano, having been taught by his mother from a young age. It was an off-hand hobby of his, which had in fact brought him and Roger together as they performed on stage a couple times with Roger's band. That had been when Roger and Jacqueline had gotten engaged. Roger and William weren't exactly friends, but they were very amicable. They were like a forked road, going in the same direction but still two different paths.

She missed him. She missed them both. Her husband and her best friend.

A flash of blonde hair and a top hat caught Jacqueline's eye as she sipped from her glass. Wait a moment, who on earth ever wore top hats anymore. And to a party like this no doubt.

Willy Wonka. He was here?

He couldn't be. He was a recluse. And for the past ten years. But that blonde hair. Jacqueline would recognize it anywhere. She made for where she saw the hat, idly setting her wine glass aside. While the ballroom wasn't overly crowded, Jacqueline still had to maneuver around people as well as tables.

"Excuse me, miss. May I have a dance?"

Jacqueline turned to the man who gently grasped her hand. Asking her to dance? "What?" She looked back at her needed direction. "Sorry, I'm looking for my friend." She took her hand and strode away, still keeping an eye out for the top hat and curls. It just appeared from behind a tall, broad man and made way out of the ballroom.

"Jacqueline, you're not leaving already, are you?"

"No, Margery," Jacqueline replied softly, turning to her sister. She had not yet abandoned her young dancing partner. "Just stepping out for a minute." She stepped away.

"You can't leave here already," Margery told her.

"I'm not," Jacqueline pressed. "Just one moment!"

Jacqueline escaped her sister and made her way to the doors. He was long gone from her line of sight before he left the room so she looked both ways down the hall for him. The hall was much more empty, but she no longer saw any sign of him. No hat. No curls. Not even a bright colored coat. Had she just imagined him?

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed and were inspired to watch Willy Wonka!**


	2. Ticket Hunting

**Here's chapter 2. Thanks to all those who favored, followed, and reviewed. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **~~**II**~~**

 **Ticket Hunting**

Jacqueline had yet to get the image just right. The color wasn't quite right, the sizes needed to be adjusted, and she managed to severely smudge the last one. She had fumed for half an hour over that one. But now it was coming together beautifully.

His top hat would be an earthly brown with the barest hue of red, and short enough to still be considered stylish. He had a fondness for bowties and bright colors, especially purple. But not everything about him was so exaggerated. A couple softer colors in there, but also had a bit of shine to them. And that quirk of his lips. That was the tricky part, so much so that Jacqueline drew it in pencil several times before even attempting to paint it.

Now it was coming along spectacularly. They both were actually. In the slightly splotchy style of painting Jacqueline inclined to, she had two different portraits of Willy Wonka. One was from the shoulders up, centralizing on that Friday night when she swore to have seen him at that party - she decided not to tell Margery - and focused on his hat. The wide brim covered his face, save for his chin and that half-smile of his. It felt so right, especially in his public exile.

At that, Jacqueline sighed heavily. William was always more of an introvert in many aspects, but he never isolated himself. Why is it that for the past ten years, he'd been such a recluse? What was he doing in his factory all these years, other than, of course, making candy? By all means, he was all alone there. He was alive, at least, or his parents would have known and told her.

Ten years was a long time to stay in isolation. Has it changed him in anyway? Has he become cynical due to his competitors stealing his secret recipes that made him go into exile in the first place? Or, at the very least, was he still happy? These were the questions Jacqueline found herself silently asking more and more these days. Willy Wonka was her childhood friend after all.

Had his sense of style stayed the same? Eccentric, but subdued. A bright colored tail coat but neutral colored pants? Or did he add another out-there layer to the wackiness of Willy Wonka? Jacqueline had the hardest time on the exact colors that she should paint, but eventually she did settle. A burgundy color for his coat, with a paler green coloring his pants. It was ridiculous, Jacqueline knew, but it brought a big smile to her face as she painted, so much so that her cheeks began to ache.

And the lean on his cane. Jacqueline used to tease him about it for grabbing his father's cane simply because he liked the feel of it. William was more than sprightly enough to need the support of a cane. But that was him and how she painted him in the portrait, leaning on his cane, one booted foot crossed in front of the other and propped right at the point while tipping his hat. It was perfect. It was Willy Wonka.

"Mama!"

Jacqueline startled up as Clara and her friends, Dot and Bonnie, burst into her little art studio. She glanced up at the clock. "Aren't you three supposed to be in school?" It was barely past their lunch.

"We were let out!" Clara blurted in a rush. She thrust a newspaper at it. "Read the headline!"

Jacqueline blanched at her daughter's odd behavior. Even the girls looked ready to burst in their giddiness. After another odd glance, Jacqueline looked down at the paper. _Mr. Willy Wonka, the candy-making genius whom nobody has seen for the last ten years, sent out the following notice today:_

 **I, Willy Wonka, have decided to allow six children - six, and no more - to visit my factory. These lucky six will be shown around personally by me, and they will be allowed to see all the secrets and the magic of my factory.**

Jacqueline gaped, barely aware of the girls starting to squeal. William was opening his factory for the first time?! And people were allowed to come inside? Only six though? What was he up to? She continued reading.

 **Then, at the end of the tour, as a special present, all of them will be given enough chocolate and candies to last them for the rest of their lives!**

Chocolate to last a lifetime? Jacqueline shook her head, that was Willy Wonka for you.

 **So watch out for the Gold Tickets! Six Golden Tickets have been hidden underneath the ordinary wrapping paper of six ordinary candy bars. These six candy bars may be anywhere! In any town in any country in the world!**

Jacqueline couldn't speak. What had brought this up after all these years? What was he up to? Six Golden Tickets? He was allowing people into his factory and giving them a tour. He's actually never done that before.

"You've met Mr. Wonka, haven't you Mrs. Bowman?" Bonnie asked.

Clara nodded. "They grew up together! There's a picture of the two of them upstairs!" The girls were awed by that.

Yes, and Jacqueline knew things about Willy Wonka that the media didn't, like his middle name, and how he'd been raised vegetarian and most likely still was, as well as where the farm he'd bought for his parents was located. He loved the atmosphere of a coming storm, he often walked around when reading a book, and his preferred drink was scotch, which he first tried when he and Jacqueline were thirteen and snuck a sip from Papa Wonka's stash.

"Then you've been in his factory, right?" Dot inquired.

Jacqueline shook her head. "Actually I haven't." Indeed, she'd never been inside his chocolate factory. Not only had it been ten years since she heard from him, but even before that, she'd never stepped foot inside. William had offered a couple times, but by that time, Clara was still a baby and she couldn't just drop everything and fly all the way to Surrey.

"Why not?" Clara asked. Jacqueline shrugged. And she didn't need to add anything more as Clara hopped up and down excitedly. "Then I'll get the Golden Ticket and we can both go!"

"What makes you think you'll get it?" Dot teased, hands on her hips. "What if I get it?"

"You're both wrong!" Bonnie put in. " _I'm_ going to be the winner! And Mrs. Bowman will go with me!"

Jacqueline shook her head and laughed. "Well, what are we sitting here for? We need to buy chocolate bars!" The girls cheered loudly.

* * *

The resulting hysterics were all-consuming all around the globe. The Beatlemania had nothing on the Wonkamania as the media now termed it. Even on that first afternoon when Jacqueline and the girls headed over to Thomas's candy shop, it was already chocked full of people hyped to buy candy bars. Business boomed so much that Clara volunteered to help her uncle at the shop after school, for a few free chocolate bars of course!

Jacqueline couldn't help how good a marketing tool this was. News reports said Wonka candies had rising sales of over three hundred percent (of course, this wouldn't be just a marketing tactic for him). Wonka was famous already, and this could almost make him more so. Especially since the world would see him for the first time in years. Jacqueline could see him.

This wasn't about the Golden Tickets. It didn't matter to her whether Clara found one as she promised or not. This competition gave Jacqueline an idea that, when the competition was over, she would go to Surrey and see him. Somehow. He wouldn't turn away an old friend. Especially since he wasn't inclined to be a recluse anymore.

A feeling of both missing him and a bit of nostalgia surged through her as she took a bite of William's newest creation, a Scrumdidilyumptious Bar. Jacqueline laughed at the very Willy Wonka name. That man had a way of putting himself in everything he did. He never tried to be anything but himself, and himself was very unique indeed.

But one of her favorite of his creations was the hot chocolate coffee that she had every morning for the past decade. It sat next to her on the counter as she made breakfast.

With the anticipation going on from the contest, everyone was watching or listening to the news diligently about the first Golden Ticket. It had to be found soon, even with the mere three days in. Even Clara had gotten to waking up early and watching the small television in the kitchen.

And on the fourth morning, it struck.

 _"We began with six Golden Tickets, like six lucky bolts of lightning ready to strike without notice at any point on the map,"_ the anchorman announced. _"No one knew where, no one knew when, the first one would strike. But as you all will soon know, last night we got our answer."_

Clara gasped excitedly and Jacqueline quickly moved the pan of french toast off the burner, turning to the TV.

 _"The first Golden Ticket was found in the small town of Duselheim, Germany. We've been waiting several hours for the follow-up story, an we're finally ready with a live report."_ The footage switched over to a reporter from Germany. He seemed to be in some sort of restaurant and was perfectly settled against a backdrop that had a plaque with antlers, making the man look like a deer in camera headlights. Jacqueline and Clara glanced at each other and shared a giggle. _"Proud we are, for the attention of the entire world focuses today right here in Dueselheim,"_ the reporter started, _"a community suddenly thrust into prominence by the unexpected discovery of the first Wonka Golden Ticket. Its lucky finder is the son of out most prominent parve butcher. They boy's name? Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop, the pride of Duselheim, the fame of Western Germany, an example for the whole world."_ Jacqueline quirked a brow. Was this reporter being a bit pretentious? Of course, the Golden Ticket hunting was big, but the winners were hardly messiahs. The reporter and the camera panned over to the boy and his family _"Augustus, how does it make you feel to be the first Golden Ticket finder?"_

 _"Hungry!"_ Augustus replied immediately, stuffing his face with steak.

 _"Any other feelings?"_

 _"Feel sorry for Wonka,"_ he added between bites. _"It's going to cost him a fortune in fudge."_

Clara chuckled. "Why is it not surprising that the first winner would be a little piggy?"

"Clarice," Jacqueline scolded through gritted teeth, trying to reign in her own laughter. "I taught you manners." Clara made a gagging sound at the use of her full name.

 _"Mr. Gloop,"_ the reporter turned to the boy's father who was stuffing his face perhaps more vigorously than his son. _"Would you mind saying-"_ But the reporter didn't get to continue as Mr. Gloop right and bit off the top of the microphone.

Clara exploded into shrieking laughter for several minutes and Jacqueline's jaw hung out wide.

* * *

The Wonkamania still drove in full force even after a near month of world searching. Just days after Augustus Gloop found his ticket, the second was found. It was a girl by the name of Veruca Salt. The story was that her father's peanut factory workers shelled open chocolate bars for five days solid until they found one. A whole factory, just to find a Golden Ticket!

Clara couldn't imagine just how many chocolate bars the workers actually opened before the ticket was found. Not only that, but how was it that the ticket winners were so far gluttonous and greedy?

Then again, Wonkamania was bringing out the craziest in people. She'd heard of scientists trying to calculate where the tickets were located, a man suing his psychologist for assaulting him because he told him he dreamed he knew where the tickets were, as well as a single box of Wonka bars being bought by the Queen of England for half a million pounds.

It got so bad that Uncle Thomas had to stash his Wonka Bars in a safe in the back room, of which only he knew the combination to. Of course, the safe having been bought from the profits of selling so many Wonkas in the first place.

"Hi, Uncle Thomas," Clara greeted her uncle upon entering his candyshop. Dot and Bonnie parroted her as they set their bags on the counter. Clara stepped up on the seat, sitting on the counter and sweeping her legs on the other side.

"Clara, I have a counter flap," Uncle Thomas scolded. He usually excused the behavior with his stern tone and a shake of the head, but he was especially hard when he was serving customers, as he was now.

Clara chuckled. "I know, I just love doing that." She went to the back and grabbed three Wonka bars that Uncle set out just for her and her friends. And just like the times before, they peeled the wrapping off and counted to three before peeling the foil off.

Dot groaned. "Still no Golden Ticket."

"I'm starting to think they're only going to be in Europe," Bonnie commented, breaking off a piece of chocolate and taking a bite.

"It's been nearly three weeks, why hasn't another popped up yet?" Dot asked.

Clara shrugged. "Maybe the shipments were getting clogged and misplaced in shipping. Who knows? Besides, with how many Wonka bars go on sale, one is bound to pop up soon." She left her friends to do their homework while she helped Uncle Thomas with customers, of course, while taking breaks in filling out her own schoolwork. She was so glad winter break was coming soon. Wonka's chocolate nutmeg was just in and Clara set aside one to take home.

"What do you think Wonka's factory will be like?" Clara asked her friends when the store became slow.

Bonnie shrugged. "Colorful? Weird?"

"I'll bet it looks like a funhouse," Dot said. "Just look at the wrappings of this chocolate bar." She held up the wrapping for the Scrumdidilyumptious Bar. Indeed, it was colorful and out there, like many of Wonka candies.

"It's hard to believe that your mom was actually friends with Mr. Wonka," Bonnie said. "Do you remember him at all?"

Clara rummaged through her memory. Her mother had a picture of her and her parents that Mr. Wonka had taken when she was only two years old, and that he'd been to her third birthday party. She didn't find anything that must have been at all memorable about him save perhaps a top hat. She shook her head. "No, I don't."

"Do you think they were ever sweethearts?" Dot giggled.

"What?!" Clara stuttered, blushing. Her mother and Willy Wonka? No way! Bonnie laughed loudly.

"Well, you've seen the paintings your mom has made of him," Dot commented. "She's done several now over the past few weeks."

Clara shook her head. "If Mama loved him, she wouldn't have married Daddy." It didn't matter how close Willy Wonka and her mother had been, her mother had married Daddy and loved him very much.

Bonnie suddenly went wide-eyed. "Oh my gosh! What if Willy Wonka could've been your father?! Imagine that!"

"Bonnie!" Clara gasped, scandalized. "That's not possible!"

"I know," she quickly pacified. "But it could've been. Now that would've been interesting, you think?"

"What are you girls gossiping about over here?" Clara turned to Uncle Thomas as he skirted around the back.

"Mr. Wonka and Mrs. Bowman," Bonnie answered. "They were friends, right? We were wondering if they ever...dated?"

Uncle Thomas's brow knotted. He glanced at Clara, still looking a bit puzzled. "Not that I remember," he said. "They were attached at the hip and in their own world almost. Also, your grandparents thought of it when they were young-"

"Aha!" Dot declared.

"Dot!" Clara felt her cheeks heating severely.

Uncle Thomas only laughed. "You'd think, huh?" Clara all but glared up at him. "But no, despite all our belief in that, they didn't. It always puzzled me."

"How?" Clara inquired. She didn't understand that, if her mother and Mr. Wonka had been so close, how did her mother fall in love with Daddy?

Uncle Thomas shrugged. "As I said, they were always in their own little world together. Even when I spent time with the two of them, I always felt out of step."

"Did Mr. Bowman ever become jealous of Wonka?" Bonnie asked.

"Ooooo!" Dot squealed. "What if Mr. Wonka was in love with Mrs. Bowman and decided not to see her again because he was so jealous?!"

"Dot, stop it!" Clara demanded. Dot and Bonnie only laughed conspiratorially. Uncle Thomas's agreeing grin only had Clara groaning louder.

* * *

When Clara got home, she found her mother in the art room, painting as usual. It wasn't odd for her mother to stay there until dinnertime. Quietly looking at what her mother was painting over her shoulder, Clara was almost relieved for some reason to see it was an abstract. She did notice that her mother had been painting several portraits of Willy Wonka, but she didn't want to believe it was because her mother was somehow pining after him.

"Hi mom," she greeted, coming up behind her and hugging her.

"Hi sweetie," her mother replied, turning her head to kiss Clara on the temple. "How was school and the shop?"

"Fine," Clara answered. "Steady, but not too busy to finish my homework."

"Did you or the girls find the Golden Tickets?" Jacqueline asked.

"No," Clara murmured. "If we'd found a Golden Ticket, you would know."

Jacqueline chuckled. "In a similar matter that you told me about the contest, right?" Clara giggled and nodded, moving the stool on the far side of the room and next to her mother. After about a minute or two of watching her mother place a couple more fine strokes, Jacqueline set down her brush and turned to her. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"I can't just watch you paint?" Clara replied. It wasn't something she hadn't done before.

Jacqueline took in a deep breath. "You look like you have something on your mind, is all," she said.

Clara looked down at her lap. She did have something on her mind. Her mother and Willy Wonka. Sure she didn't for once believe in the little fantasies that Bonnie and Dot brought up, but hearing from her own uncle of how close her mother was to her old friend, it did get her thinking. "We were talking about how you used to know Willy Wonka and Uncle Thomas said that you guys were very close. "

"He was my best friend," Jacqueline said.

"Yeah," Clara continued slowly, "but Dot and Bonnie were under the impression that the two of you were in love? Even Uncle Thomas may have thought so." Clara was scared to look up at her mother's reaction as she clenched her hands atop her lap. But she wasn't expecting this.

Her mother laughed. A big cackling belly laugh.

Clara snapped back up at her mom. "Don't laugh at me!" she cried.

Jacqueline shook her head. "I'm not laughing at you," she tried to calm her down, but her continued laughter made it hard. "I'm laughing because this isn't the first time I've heard that."

Clara felt her brow rise in curiosity. "It's not?"

Jacqueline shook her head. "It was very odd for boys and girls to be as close as William and I were as kids, especially when we were teenagers. Everyone around us were convinced that we were together, but that was never so. It never even occurred to us. We were just friends."

"Never at all?" Clara wondered. That was hard to believe. She could never look at a boy her age and not think about those kinds of things. But her mother and Willy Wonka did?

"Never," Jacqueline repeated.

"Then what about when you met Daddy?" Clara asked.

Jacqueline sighed softly and looked at her own lap. "Your father was different from William. Willy Wonka was a one of a kind. His dreams took him all sorts of places. Roger was more...steady, and I liked that."

"So Daddy was average and you liked that?" Clara didn't know how to take that.

"No," Jacqueline replied patiently. "I said steady, not average. Just because your father didn't create a chocolate factory doesn't mean he meant less. There were things about your father that William couldn't compare to. Neither of them were better than the other, they were just different. They both had their unique ways of creativity. Individual personalities and dreams and goals. I loved them both by their own way. And they got along well, too."

"So neither of them were jealous over you?" Clara asked her last burning question.

It looked like Jacqueline was about to laugh again, but she held it in. "Of course not."

Clara nodded, happy to have that off her chest. "William Wonka?" she wondered with a quirk of her brow.

"That is his name," Jacqulene said. "What do you think Willy comes from?"

Clara shrugged. "Uh, Willy?"

That time Jacqueline did laugh.


	3. Tickets, Tickets, Tickets Galore!

**Again, many thanks to those who reviewed last chapter and to those who favored and followed. Lots of love!**

* * *

 **~~**III**~~**

 **Tickets, Tickets, Tickets Galore!**

Clara placed her best foot forward as she dropped the volley ball and bounced it off her arm. A good shot that went right to the middle. Susan just barely hit it over and Bonnie bounced it back. Two more passes back and forth before Clara's team got the point.

"Alright ladies, switch it up!" Ms. Brown, the P.E. teacher called.

Clara moved from the back to the front, immediately standing opposite Daphne Collins.

"Hey Carrottop," she mocked. Clara merely glowered at her, not bothering with a response. Her hair was hardly orange anymore, unlike when she was six years old, but the name stuck when it came to Daphne. "I'm surprised you can still toss with all that chocolate you must be eating."

This time, Clara did have a perfect comeback. "At least my attitude doesn't make chocolate instantly bitter." Daphne actually didn't like chocolate.

"Well, I spend my money on more useful things," Daphne mused.

"Like your mother's make up?" Clara quipped. It was a long jab to make. When they were seven, Daphne had come to school wearing her mother's bright red lipstick. Most the class openly laughed at her and their teacher had to wipe it all off.

But the joke hardly phased her anymore. Daphne merely smiled, flipping her perfect long, blonde hair. "At least I know how to wear it." She looked Clara up and down and then lingered on her hair. "And how to defrizz my hair, too."

Clara closed her eyes and shook her head. She was in her P.E. shorts and her hair was pulled back. It was hardly a time to focus on how well she looked.

And it was the time to focus, unlike as she was doing at the moment. It was just before she was going to open her eyes as the ball came and whacked her on the side of the head. It knocked her right off her feet.

"Clara, are you alright?" Bonnie exclaimed, coming to her side.

"I'm fine," Clara mumbled, taking Bonnie's extended hand, pointedly ignoring Daphne's laughter as well as the other girls on the other team.

"Stop gossiping, girls!" Ms. Brown ordered.

* * *

After school, Clara couldn't help her low whistle as she spotted the boxes and wrappers overflowing and crowding around the trash can as she headed toward her uncle's candy shop. It wasn't a new sight, but it was still a sight. A constant reminder of the contest that ravaged nations. All too often, the Wonkamania felt too unreal. Of course everyone loved his candies, but this was obsession.

Then again, Clara was hardly one to talk. She was one of many who grabbed an extra box of Wonka bars just to grab another box. Just in case. The next ticket could be anywhere.

"The next ticket has been found!"

Clara stopped in her tracks as someone called from across the street. A group closed around in front of a TV store. Glancing both ways, Clara made her way across the street, gently pushing her way to a viewable position.

 _"And it can happen right here too!"_ the reporter sounded as the cameras went on screen to what looked like a car dealership. _"Right here in America, where even in the smallest town, the happiest of dreams can come true! Here she is folks, Miss Violet Beauregarde, Lucky Ticket Winner Number Three!"_ The camera panned toward a young brown-haired girl vigorously chewing gum. _"And with her, the proud parents! Mr. Beauregarde-"_ Before the camera was even on him, Mr. Beauregarde looked ready to explode. Definitely a car salesman. Annoying. _"A prominent local politician-"_ Eeww, _"a great civic leader, and-"_ Of course, the man couldn't wait for his chance to glow in the spotlight as he took the microphone and went all salesman.

 _"Hi friends, Sam Beauregarde here! Square deals and with all of today's great giveaway bargains! The finest we have to off-"_

 _"Knock it off, Dad!"_ Violet hollered, the attention rounding back to her. She looked right into the camera. _"Here it is, Golden Ticket Number Three!"_ She said, waving the ticket in front of the camera. _"And it's all mine!"_

 _"Tell us how it happened, Violet."_

 _"Well, I'm a gum chewer, mostly."_ Clara rolled her eyes. Obviously, by the way she loudly smacked her gum. _"But when I heard about this ticket thing, I laid off the gum and switched to candy bars. Now, of course, I'm right back on gum. I chew it all day except at meal times when I stick it behind my ear for safe-keeping."_

 _"Violet."_ Her mother could be heard trying to scold her and Clara couldn't blame her. That was not something many people needed to hear. Especially as she took out her piece of gum that she'd apparently been chewing on for three months straight. Clara didn't even know if that was possible. Did gum even last that long? Well, Clara didn't like gum anyway. When she was six, it had gotten some in her hair and she had to have it clipped above her shoulders. It was a nightmare. Her mother had railed at the school nurse for not only ripping out Clara's gum-stuck hair before actually cutting it, but not notifying her first as Clara's mother knew how to remove gum from hair without needing to cut it. With some good old-fashioned liquid vegetable oil. Since then, Clara refused to touch chewing gum.

So, three tickets down, and only three left.

* * *

The January snow sprinkled gently outside as Jacqueline prepped dinner for herself, Clara, and Dot and Bonnie. The Wonkamania ravaged through Christmas but surprisingly the candy sales didn't grow even bigger. Then again, it was hard for it to get any bigger in the first place.

None of the girls had yet to find a Ticket despite their many tries. They'd taken to tallying their number of candy bars and Bonnie had to start counting her calories as she found she was straining to get into her jeans. Jacqueline merely handed her a jump rope. "Exercise that's still fun," she told the young girl with a slight smirk. Fifteen minutes a day still worked for her.

Dumping the chopped vegetables into the boiling pot, Jacqueline was alerted to the living room as Clara called that the fourth ticket had been found.

 _"While the rest of the world goes on searching, here in the Southwest, it had actually happened. That's what I said, friends. There's only two Golden Tickets left in the entire world because right here in our own community of Marble Falls, Arizona, is lucky winner number four. Now, the name that soon to be heard around the world is Mr. Mike Teavee."_ The cameras went to the family as they sat on the couch of the family room. The ring of the television could be heard in the background. It sounded like a gunslinging western. The boy, Mike, couldn't yet be ten years old with brown hair and small, beady eyes and wore a cowboy outfit. Surprisingly stereotypical of young boys out west. _"Hey Mike, do you think we might shut that thing off?"_

 _"No, are you crazy!?"_ he replied in a nasally voice.

Jacqueline glanced at her daughter. "This is why you only had an hour of TV time everyday."

Clara nodded. "I hated it then, but I'm glad of it now."

 _"He won't answer till the station break,"_ Mrs. Teavee replied with a smile. A little too proud of herself than what Jacqueline was comfortable with.

 _"Mike, the country want to hear from you, the world is waiting-"_

 _"Can't you shut up? I'm busy!"_ Mike snapped, not even taking his eyes off the TV. _"Boy, what a great show."_

Mrs. Teavee pipe in again. _"I serve all his TV dinners right here. He's never even been to the table."_

"Dinner at the table will _always_ be mandatory in this house," Jacqueline stated. "With no TV, radio, or telephone interruptions." Beside her, Clara merely nodded, watching the kid who was literally being raised by television.

"What I wonder is what's that kid gonna do when he's an adult?" Dot wondered. "He can't sit on the couch and watch TV for the rest of his life."

"Seeing as he's never been to the dinner table, I can't help but think he can," Bonnie added.

 _"You love to watch TV, Mike?"_

 _"You bet!"_

 _"What about the Golden Ticket, Mike? That's what we all want to hear-"_

Mike held up a hand to silence the reporter. _"Hold it! I wanna catch this!"_

 _"You like the killings, huh?"_

 _"What do you think life's all about?"_

All four women laid their heads in their hands and groaned. And that wasn't the last of it.

Clara jumped off the couch. "I'm not gonna ask for a gun, either!"

Jacqueline shook her head. When it came to the parenting of these kids, she became immensely more proud of how she and Roger brought up Clara. Only an hour of TV, be a good sport and have respect for others, getting things from Mom and Dad that she needed and were good for her, such as clothes, books and her own instruments only once she started showing competency for, and finally a chocolate bar every Friday that was to last for the whole week.

She was starting to think that this ticket contest was going to be more trouble than it was worth. Hopefully William could manage them.

* * *

Another week passed by at Uncle Thomas's candy shop as Clara wiped down the counters before grabbing another Wonka Bar. Placing it on the counter, she took out her little notebook from the pocket of her apron and added another tally. She'd eaten more than twice her usual amount of chocolate than she usually did before this contest took place. She couldn't deny that eating all that chocolate was not all that healthy and she, Dot, and Bonnie had taken to jump rope and double dutch at her mother's nudging.

But at least she was no Augustus Gloop who could and would eat his weight in chocolate within a bubble of gluttony. Nor was she hoarding boxes of chocolate all to herself for her own gain like Veruca Salt. She wanted to win the Ticket so her mother could reunite with her childhood friend and not simply to win a competition like Violet Beauregarde. She had morals and responsibilities and friends in her life, unlike Mike Teavee.

And whether or not she won a Golden Ticket, Clara would always go back to her weekly chocolate bar shared between her and her mother.

Ripping open the wrapping with more abandon that usual, she actually forgot to look for ticket as she made to take a bite...pausing at the flash of gold. Slowly moving the chocolate bar away from her mouth, Clara's eyes fell to the faintest little twinkle poking out from the brown and pink with an underlayer of white that encased the Scrumdiddlyumptious Bar. With shaking hands, she pulled open the wrappings a bit further to see the twinkle of gold becoming the sought after prize of the competition she'd been eating three chocolate bars a week for.

The Golden Ticket.

 _She'd found it!_

"You found a Golden Ticket!"

Clara was startled out of her shock by the lady at the other side of the counter who was gazing at the penny candies. Uncle Thomas paused his transaction with another customer to look just where the ticket was found. Once he saw that Clara was holding it, he was stunned.

"I wanted the Golden Ticket!"

"I'll buy it from you!"

"Wow. It was found here of all places!"

"I want it!"

Uncle Thomas rounded the counter and pulled Clara away to the back to the shop. Clara was too stunned to protest, still staring at the Ticket. She had to tell Dot and Bonnie!

"Clara!" her uncle finally got her attention. She stared up at him.

"You gotta get home right now," he told her. He glanced out toward the customers still reveling at her discovery. "Go through the back."

Clara nodded. Home. To her mother. They would both be going to see Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. "I found the ticket, Uncle."

He chuckled and nodded. "Say hi to him for me," he said, nudging her toward the back door. "No go!"

Clara left the shop and raced around and down the sidewalk with little regard, barely dodging others in her path. A couple times she bumped into passersby, to which she could only cry out 'sorry', at times turning backwards at them while still running and continuing home.

Turning the corner, she was too late in stopping herself from full-on knocking into a someone. She couldn't stop from stumbling to the ground, taking him with her. Her ticket slipped out of her hand and Clara dove for it, stuffing it into her coat pocket and turned to the gentleman.

"Sir, I'm so sorry!" she said, taking his arm and helping him up to his feet. The gentleman fixed his skewed glasses back on that thankfully weren't broken and Clara leaned down to pick up his blower hat, dusting it off bumping the crushed dent back into place. "Here's your hat, sir," she told him, holding it out. "Again, I'm so sorry."

"No harm done, child," he replied. "Most excitement I've hand in a while." He carefully placed his hat back on.

Clara took a moment to study his face. His spectacles were oddly shaped with angles like the shapes in her geometry class and he had a scar on his left cheek. His eyes were set to an almost disinterested expression and his voice was oddly nasally. There was something else that rubbed her the wrong way, but she couldn't fathom what it was.

"I wish to congratulate you on finding the fifth Golden Ticket," the gentleman said. Clara started, looking down at the ticket poking out of her coat pocket. She reached inside and folded it in half, pushing it farther in and out of sight.

"What about it?" Clara wondered warily.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he continued. "I am Arthur Slugworth."

Clara involuntarily stepped back. _The_ Arthur Slugworth of Slugworth Chocolates? She'd once tried his chocolate worms when she was eight. Clara swore that after she ate it, it actually wriggled inside her stomach. It freaked her out so much that her parents took her to the ER. Turns out it didn't, but she never touched a chocolate worm again.

"I hope to make you very rich indeed," Arthur Slugworth went on, not noticing Clara's hesitance. "Mr. Wonka is at this moment working on a fantastic invention: the Everlasting Gobstopper. If he succeeds, he'll ruin me. So I want you to get ahold of just one Everlasting Gobstopper and bring it to me so that I can find the secret formula."

Clara shook her head. "I can't steal from Mr. Wonka, and it won't help you either. Your problem is that you push all the wrong products. Your chocolate worms were terrible, but your gummy butterflies were really neat. What you need is better management, not someone else's product." She took a couple more steps away from him. "I have to get home. Again, I'm really sorry for knocking into you."

* * *

Jacqueline was really starting to regret her act of coating the entire canvas first, not for the color, but for the work. It wasn't as simple as painting a wall. The big roller was not going to do it. That meant she had to do the thing by a thick - but not too thick - brush to cover the entire six by five canvas. It would be worth it though. The background of deep blue would perfectly hue the watercolors she would use near the end of the project. It was all worth it for the art show.

It was still a pain in the rear. And when she finally stepped down from the ladder, Jacqueline pressed on her back to try soothing the slight ache. It was not easy pushing forty.

That was also when she heard a slight constant buzzing from outside that sounded like parking cars. And before she could even pose the question in her head, Clara came bursting through the door.

"Momma! Momma! I found the Golden Ticket!"

Jacqueline was glad to have stepped down from the ladder when she heard that and saw her daughter waving a Golden Ticket at her. "What? How?" she exclaimed to her daughter.

"At Uncle Thomas's shop!" Clara told her. "The press is right outside!"

Jacqueline gasped, her hand going to her hair, hoping there was no paint in it. "What?! Already?!"

Clara nodded. "They kinda followed me home. And no, there's no paint in your hair."

"I know that," Jacqueline quipped.

Clara grinned and shook her head. "Ready for this? To see Mr. Wonka again?"

Jacqueline sighed softly as they made their way to the doorway. During this whole thing, she hadn't actually expected for Clara to find a ticket. It had been just a far away thought that kept them entertained while opening chocolate bars. Of course she was ready to see her best friend, but it was a surprise to be seeing him this way. In the six in billions chance at winning tickets that were spread around the world. The coincidence was uncanny.

Cameras flashed before her eyes and she blinked to get the dots out of her vision. One of the reporters fought his way to the doorstep to stand beside Clara and turned to the cameraman who followed him up.

He didn't so much as give any heads up to Jacqueline or Clara before he spoke to the camera. "I'm here at the home of Clara Bowman, winner of the fifth Golden Ticket, right her in New York. Standing next to Clara is her mother, Jacqueline Bowman, sister of Hollywood actress Margery Wakefield." Jacqueline almost groaned at that. Not that she held it against her sister, but the one time she'd held an art show, Margery had come to bring awareness to it but ended up commandeering the whole thing. She did not want to be known as someone's little sister. But she couldn't do anything about it now.

The reporter continued. "Clara, how does it feel to be a Golden Ticket winner?"

"It's incredible to know that I'm gonna be able to see Willy Wonka's factory with my mom," she answered. "So far I've been eating so much Wonka candy, but now I'm gonna slow down so when we get to the factory, I'll be hungry for it!" Jacqueline smiled at her daughter. She would always be hungry for candy and chocolate.

"Mrs. Bowman, how does it feel to be the proud parent of a Golden Ticket winner?" another reporter asked.

"Exciting," Jacqueline told them. "It's not everyday that something like this happens. And with all the candy that's been sold throughout this contest and all over the world, it's hard to believe that my little girl found one."

"What's your favorite Wonka candy, Clara?" one of the reporters asked.

"I can't give a single answer to that," Clara answered. "But I can say why I favor them is because of how colorful and innovative they look. As an artist, it's the aesthetic that counts."

Jacqueline squeezed her daughter, answering yes to the reporter to who asked if she was proud of her daughter.

"I get all my talent from my Momma," Clara continued. "She loves all things wild and colorful. It must have been why she and Mr. Wonka used to be such good friends."

Jacqueline started and looked down at her daughter. Clara seemed startled at her slip up too. Not many people knew about Willy Wonka's life before his chocolate factory and the gasps following were proof of that.

"Mrs. Bowman, were you indeed once acquainted with Mr. Wonka?"

"Are you in contact with him now?"

"What was the nature of your relationship?"

Jacqueline had to get away from this. She pulled Clara back toward the door. "Willy Wonka was an old school friend of mine who I've unfortunately haven't heard from in many years. Now, I have to start dinner. Good afternoon to you all."

She pushed Clara inside and slammed the door as quickly as she could, flipping down the blinds and locking the door. She then turned to her daughter who looked sheepishly up at her.

"I didn't mean to say that," she said. "I got carried away."

Jacqueline shook her head. "And you rat out Dot and Bonnie for being big mouths!" They both shared a laugh.


	4. The Big Day Arrives

**Sorry for such the late update. I got distracted. But here we are at the Chocolate Factory!**

* * *

 **~~**IV**~~**

 **The Big Day Arrives!**

The people couldn't have stirred up a bigger crowd unless it was a Beatles show. American, British, and German flags were waved in the crowd for the Ticket Winners and reporters from all over addressed their cameras and audiences of the spectacle was that occurring. Even though the contest was over, the Wonkamania was still in effect.

Jacqueline and Clara sat alongside the other Ticket Winners. And it so happened that the six ticket was indeed found. The two had read the morning paper and found out that a young boy named Charlie Bucket had won it just yesterday afternoon. He sat next to Clara who introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Clara," she said, holding out her hand to shake. "This is my mom, Jacqueline." She gestured to her mother.

"Charlie," he answered, shaking her hand. "This is my Grandpa Joe."

"Pleasure to meet you," Jacqueline said, leaning over to shake both Charlie's and Joe's hands.

"I honestly wondered if the sixth ticket would actually be found before today," Clara added.

"That would have been a odd development," Mr. Bucket commented. Jacqueline nodded in agreement.

"Would Mr. Wonka have waited for it to be found before the tour, you think?" Charlie inquired.

Clara shrugged. "Maybe. Probably. He couldn't have his tour if two of the guests had yet to receive their invitations."

Jacqueline turned back toward the gates and bundled her coat closer around her, shivering. It was cold out here. She looked up at the clock tower. 9:58. She turned to the Beauregardes (it was young Violet sitting beside her). "Cold out here, isn't it?"

"This is nothing compared to a Montana winter," Violet told her, smacking her gum.

"You're from America, aren't you?" Mr. Beauregarde asked and continued on without waiting for Jacqueline's answer. "Need any help with the automotive?"

"Uh," Jacqueline stammered. "I'm fine with my Chevy."

"I'm more of a Ford man, myself," Mr. Beauregarde replied, "but still, cars are my business and if you need any help," he handed her his business card, "just call."

Jacqueline nodded once and took the card from him, folding it in half once she shoved it in her pocket. She was fortunate to have her '59 Camaro and not having to deal with any salesmen. It was bad enough for them to talk her ear off at the dealership, let alone everywhere else. No wonder his daughter often shot him down, Jacqueline had only met the guy and she was annoyed.

Just then, the bell began chiming the hour and the crowd cheered even harder. Jacqueline felt her heart surge and the breath leave her. She was finally going to see her childhood friend after so many years. It had hit her when Clara found the ticket, but actually being here was completely different. Her stomach flipped and she even had a moment of light-headedness. She reminded herself to breathe.

Beyond the open gate, the factory door opened and the crowd screamed again. A flash of bright purple came through the other door window and Willy Wonka himself appeared at the doorway, purple coat and brown top hat that sat slightly crooked atop his unruly dark blonde hair. It was brushed back relatively smooth now, but it would undoubtedly go back to its unruly state before day's end. Jacqueline beamed wide enough to feel an ache in her cheeks until she saw the hardness of his brow and his struggle down the steps. What was wrong? Why was he limping? Had something happened?

The crowd's cheers faded too as they watched the chocolate-maker slowly limped his way down the red carpet. The limp Jacqueline could live with, but his face? He didn't have the happy, whimsical air about him that she remembered. She knew it had been over a decade, but he was a candyman. He couldn't continue to be this successful with that attitude.

As he neared the gate, his cane became stuck in the cobblestones and left behind as William took another two steps forward. He paused, his hand flexing and realizing he no longer had his cane, and then fell forward. Jacqueline openly gasped as he unexpectedly performed a perfect somersault and popped back up on two, perfectly working legs, smiling widely. Jacqueline screwed up her mouth in amused exasperation. So, it was just a ploy. Now _that_ was Willy Wonka. She glanced down at her daughter who was laughing and clapping enthusiastically.

William smiled softly at the crowd. "Thank you, thank you." Ever so soft and humble was William Wonka. He looked up at the winners' stand. "Would you come forward?" he said, beckoning with two fingers.

"Veruca first! Get back you!" Mr. Salt shouted. Jacqueline didn't even bother moving until Clara did, who made to help Charlie step Mr. Bucket down. Instead of making it in first, Jacqueline brought up the rear.

"Welcome," William greeted them cordially. "It's nice to have you here. I'm so glad you could come. This is going to be such an exciting day. I hope you enjoy it." He looked past at all the ticket holders and his eyes met Jacqueline's. She sent a smile his way. "I think you will." He nodded slightly. "And now, would you please show me your Golden Tickets."

Veruca introduced herself first, just as she and her father insisted. As Jacqueline remembered, William always had spectacular manners and he was great with children, politely complimenting her one of three mink coats. He would have been a great father.

Wait, Willy Wonka, a father? Jacqueline couldn't imagine it. And what put that thought in her head anyway?

Mike Teavee approached William and introduced himself, and then proceeded to wham his toy gun mockingly into the man's gut. William played along perfectly, pretending to be shot. Maybe that was why.

Charlie and his grandfather were next before Clara stepped up. William's beaming smile grew even wider as they stood opposite each other.

"Clarice Bowman," he said before she introduced herself. "Now, I haven't seen you since you were small enough to still be carried by your mom and dad. You've grown so big."

"Thank you," Clara said, blushing slightly, "but I _don't_ like being called Clarice. Clara's fine."

"Very well," William replied, "but I must say I favor the lovely name your parents gave you."

With a beaming smile, Clara stepped aside and Jacqueline stood opposite her friend for the first time in years. For the longest time, she could only stare at him, and it seemed he could only do the same. Twelve years. Everything had stayed the same. He still had that twinkle in his eyes as well as the softness that hadn't changed at all with age. And the quirk of his lips was the same as it had always been.

"'To reminisce with my old friends, a chance to share some memories, and play our songs again,'" he stated softly. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing them against her knuckles. Jacqueline barely registered some gasps from the crowd.

"It's wonderful to see you again," she said as he lowered her hand.

"Indeed, it is," William nodded and turned to the winners. "Is that everyone? Are we ready? Yes! Good! On we go!" He stuffed the Golden Tickets into his coat pocket and a policeman shut the gate as the twelve of them made for the factory doors with William in the lead, casually picking up his cane as he passed it. He waited at the door for all of them to enter before nodding to the crowd and closing the door behind him.

"After all this time, I can't believe this the first and only time I've ever been to your chocolate factory," Jacqueline said as William fell into step beside her.

"The timing was never right," William said.

"Well, at least the candy will be," Jacqueline said. "Unlike your _lemon drops and chocolate._ " Jacqueline grimaced at the memory. Some of the others made faces as well.

"It just didn't turn out the way I'd imagined it," William mused, staring off into the corner. "But hold that thought, as I haven't given up on it yet." He started ahead a few steps. "Now, just around here. Hats, coats, galoshes over here," he pointed his cane to the wall of hooks shaped as hands. "But hurry please, we have so much time and so little to see." He stopped, realizing his mistake. "Wait a minute! Strike that. Reverse it. Thank you."

Jacqueline shared a giggle with her daughter as she removed her hat and Clara did her cap, hanging them on the upper hands. When it came to their coats, Jacqulene pondered on why the hands curved down instead of up. Just how would she hang her coat? Her question as answered as, just when she held her coat up to the hanger, it actually _grabbed_ her coat. She gasped along with the other ladies in the room.

"Little surprises around every corner but nothing _dangerous,_ " William stated quickly. "Don't be alarmed." Jacqueline stared back at the hangers now _holding_ their coats, the question instantly forming in her head. "As soon as your outer vestments are in hand, we'll begin." Perhaps she would ask him later. She smoothed out her soft green chiffon dress and rubbed at her still slightly startled heart.

Or perhaps she'd leave the question wholly unanswered.

"Now, would the children kindly step up here," William continued, motioning with his cane to the small platform of stairs. Clara approached with the other kids, keeping to the back as she was the tallest of all of them, even Augustus. William then pulled back the curtain to reveal a parchment-styled document that seemed to be a contract. Especially if the two quills were anything to go by. The wording started out large, but grew smaller as it went down to the point of whisking away at the bottom. Jacqueline wasn't the only one slightly puzzled.

"Floods, fire, frost or frippery...?"

"Accidents? What kind of accidents?"

"Labor unions?"

"I didn't know we had to sign anything for this tour."

"...in trying to determine..."

"I can't read what it says on the bottom."

William paid no heed as he called Violet up. "You first," he said. "Sign here." He pointed to the signature boxes at the illegible bottom.

"Hold it!" Mr. Beauregarde shouted as Violet took the quill and made to sign. "Violet, baby, don't you sign anything here!" He turned to William. "What's this all about?"

"Standard form of contract," William replied innocently enough.

"Don't talk to me about contracts, Wonka," Mr. Beauregarde retorted. "I use them myself. They're strictly for suckers."

"Yes," he replied. Jacqueline stifled a laugh at his blatant agreement. "But you wouldn't begrudge me a little protection." He held his fingers up a pinch. "A drop."

"I don't sign anything without my lawyer!" Mr. Beauregarde interjected.

"My Veruca doesn't sign anything either!" Mr. Salt added.

William shrugged. "Then she don't go in. I'm sorry. Rules of the house."

That got Veruca going. "I want to go in! Don't you dare stop me!" she shouted, stepping forward and pushing her father back when he tried to stop her. She took the quill from William and made for the signature box. "You're always making things difficult!" she sneered at her father.

William genuinely smiled at the girl's forwardness. "Nicely handled, Veruca," he said. Even Jacqueline had to give the girl credit. "She's a girl who knows where she's going!" He then looked to the other girl. "Violet?" He held a hand to her chin, probably to keep her from smacking her gum for a moment's peace. She took the quill and stepped up to the contract.

Her father wasn't as unfazed. "Wait a minute, what's all that small print at the bottom?" he fussed.

"Oh, if you have any problems, dial information," William replied. "Thank you for calling." Both Jacqueline and Clara had to bite down on their laughter. Clara grinned up at her. Jacqueline smirked at her daughter's unspoken inquiry. Yes, Willy Wonka had always been like that.

"Mike? Augustus?"

The young boys stepped up and received the quills from the girls, inscribing their names underneath.

"I assume there's an accident indemnity clause?" Mrs. Teavee inquired.

William nodded. "Never between friends." That time Clara leaned on her mother's shoulder to stifle her laughter.

"Saw this in a movie once," Mike sounded as he slowly wrote his name. "Guy signed his wife's insurance policy. Then he bumped her off."

"Clever," William mused. He did surprisingly enjoy listening to dramas and soap operas with Mama Jean. And he did so with almost alarming nonchalance. Of course he find something like that clever. "Charlie? Clara?"

Mr. Bucket all but tossed the boy up there, saying they had nothing to lose. Jacqueline, on the other hand, had a couple reservations. She did not want her daughter to be harmed in any way and would never forgive William if something did. But the twinkle in his eyes and a moment of softness made up her mind as she squeezed Clara's shoulder and her little girl took up a quill.

"You don't think anything's gonna happen about this, do you?" Mr. Beauregarde murmured over Jacqueline's shoulder. She looked over at him and shrugged. She had no idea what William was planning, not even when they were kids.

"Come on! Let's go in!" Veruca whined as Charlie and Clara finished their signatures.

"Patience," William cooed. "Patience, little dear. Everything has to be in order." Charlie and Clara placed their quills back in the cup and William bounced down to lead them to the door at the opposite side of the room. It had a combination lock that he didn't even try to hide the combination. "Ninety-nine...forty-four...one hundred percent pure." He pressed in the lock and pushed the door open. "Just through the other door, please." With the psychedelic black and white walls, it was impossible to even see forward.

William closed the door behind them and left the group stuffed inside what seemed to be some sort of trick room. "There is no other door!" Jacqueline heard Mike cry out.

"There's no way out!" Veruca screamed.

"Well, I know there's a door here someplace," William said. He started pushing his way through, rolling around the parents and trying to find a way out of this mess.

Jacqueline was squished between Mrs. Teavee and Mr. Bucket to the point where she couldn't lose her footing even if she wanted to. In fact, none of them could it was so tight in here. What was this place supposed to be? It couldn't be the only room in the factory? What was he playing? A slight jab to her ribs made her hiss.

"I'm sorry," little Charlie said right beside her, pressed up against a wall himself.

"Don't worry, dear," she told him. They were all going to be victims of some sort of shoving.

Most the kids had run inside first, with Veruca heading the front and her father not wanting to be left behind. Jacqueline just barely spotted her daughter's red hair. She was up against the wall next to Mrs. Gloop, Mr. Beauregarde and Veruca.

"Help! Mr. Wonka, help!" Mrs. Gloop cried. "I'm getting squashed! Save me!"

"Is this some sort of trick, Wonka!" Mr. Salt snapped as the chocolatier moved past him. Mr. Salt tried shoving his way into some elbow room and unfortunately Jacqueline felt the brunt of it. Slamming into someone else, Jacqueline could only glare at the bloated rich man. She wouldn't be so forgiving to him.

"Is it my soul that calls upon my name?"

Jaqueline glanced over her shoulder to see a flash of purple and wisps of blonde hair. So she knew who she was shoved into. A Juliet shoved into the arms of her Romeo? Jacqueline didn't know William to be that much of a romantic.

"Let me out or I'll scream!" Veruca screeched.

"That was in my ear!" Clara screamed back.

"Somebody's touching me!" Mrs. Teavee screeched. Now they really needed to get out of here before they started stampeding and killing each other. It didn't seem that Clara would be making friends with Veruca anytime soon.

"Now look here Wonka-!" Mr. Salt stated, just as irritated and flustered as the rest of them, but William interrupted.

"Excuse me, question time will come at the end of the session," he said, not at all caring about all of them being tossed around. The rest of the factory better be worth this. "We must press on. Come along, come along." By then, William had returned to the front door. "Ah! Here we are!"

What? Back at the front door?

"Don't be a darn fool, Wonka!" Mr. Beauregarde snapped. "That's the way we came in!"

"Is it?" he wondered, looking back at the glass door. "Are you sure?"

"We've just come through there!" Mr. Salt snapped.

Baffled, William quirked a brow and leaned his elbow on the door handle. "Huh?" But that action had opened the door and revealed a new hallway that they certainly did not come in from. Jacqueline openly gasped at him. How had the gone from a lobby to a hallway lined with doors through the very same entrance? This had to be a trick!

"What is this, Wonka? A fun house?" Mr. Salt demanded.

"Why? Having fun?" William teased. Jacqueline heard her daughter bark a laugh.

But the others weren't as amused. Mrs. Teavee had already had enough and Mr. Beaurgarde exclaimed that he was turning around. "Oh, you can't get out backwards!" William told them, making his way through the hall. "You gotta go forwards to go back. Better press on."

Jaqueline looked to the nearest parent, or in this case grandparent, and shrugged. She turned behind her and reached for her daughter who shoved her way through. The Buckets followed them and slowly the other families did as well. And the odd did not let up as the room started becoming smaller, William actually needing to crouch to continue.

"Hey! The room's getting smaller!" Charlie exclaimed.

"No it's not!" Mrs. Teavee stated. "He's getting bigger!"

"How does that make sense?" Clara questioned.

"Nothing in this factory makes sense!" Mr. Salt snapped.

"Where's the chocolate?" Mike wondered.

"I doubt there is any," Mr. Beauregarde scoffed.

"I doubt any of us will get out of here alive," Mr. Salt muttered.

By that time, they had reached the end of the hallway. The door there was maybe two feet high. Jaqueline could probably wriggle her way through it, but in her dress? She now wished she'd worn something different.

"Oh you should never, never doubt what no one is sure about," William replied. Jacqueline shook her head at him but said nothing.

"You're not squeezing me through that tiny door," Mrs. Gloop said. Indeed, she definitely wouldn't fit.

"You're off your bleeding nut, Wonka!" Mr. Salt burst. "No one can get through there!"

But William didn't reply to that, instead looking at the children who were allowed at the front. "My dear friends, you are now about to enter the nerve center of the entire Wonka Factory," he told them. "Inside this room, all of my dreams become realities, and some of my realities become dreams. And almost everything you see is eatable. Edible. I mean, you can eat almost anything!"

"Let me in, I'm starving!" Augustus wailed.

"Now, don't get overexcited," William exclaimed, patting Augustus on the cheek. "Don't lose your head Augustus. We wouldn't want to lose that! Yet!" He then pulled down a little flap on the door and a miniature keyboard appeared. It was an octave, maybe more. William turned back to them. "Now, the combination. This is a musical lock." With one hand, William played the starting tune to Mozart. Jacqueline couldn't quite place the song, but she was certain it was Mozart.

"Rachmaninoff," Mrs. Teavee stated approvingly.

Jacqueline shook her head. "It's Mozart."

"Ladies and gentleman," William started before that became a conversation. "Boys and girls," His hand was pushing at the door, which seemed to grow a lot bigger. "The chocolate room."


	5. The Chocolate Room

**This is why I wanted to have this finished before I posted. So I wouldn't have such a long hiatus between chapters! Alas, I finally sat my butt down to finish the next chapter!**

* * *

 **~~**V**~~**

 **The Chocolate Room**

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the chocolate room."

Jacqueline felt her breath leave her as she took in the magnificent room. The first color that caught her eye was green. Vibrant, lush green of the grass of a spring day in flats and soft hills. And under them was the soft brown of dirt as if it was an actual hill, but William's words came back to her. _You can eat everything in here._ So, by a good guess, the 'dirt' may be chocolate. There were several trees that sported odd looking fruits that were no doubt candies as well as several brightly colored balls littering the ground. And the mushrooms, different colored mushrooms that seemed to hold cream on them.

But that didn't even cover half of it.

The silence around the group was palpable, all staring at the room in fascination.

"Hold your breath," William murmured. "Make a wish. Count to three." He started to sing. In the world of dreams, done by a man who made magic, and blurred the lines between imagination and reality.

 _"Come with me_

 _and you'll be_

 _in a world of pure imagination._

 _Take a look and you'll see-"_

 _into your imagination."_

A pleasant ache rang through Jacqueline's chest. It didn't matter how many years had passed, she was in her childhood again. Her childhood with her best, most closest friend. A time of innocent imagination and dreams that were always in reach. Millions of inspirations and aspirations and imaginations and creams in technicolor that crowded the senses but was never overbearing.

From beside her, Jacqueline felt Clara grip her hand. Looking down at her daughter, she saw Clara looking just as awed and enthused as she was. The admiration of Jacqueline's childhood friend was in her too.

 _"We'll begin_

 _with a spin_

 _traveling in the world of my creation._

 _what we'll see will defy_

 _explanation."_

Creations that only one of the world's most brilliant minds could ever achieve. This was why he was so successful. This was why he was a household name. This was why he put smiles on people's faces all world round.

 _"If you want to view paradise_

 _simply look around and view it_

 _anything you want to_

 _do it_

 _want to change the world_

 _there's nothing to it."_

How had Jacqueline lived so long away from the world of Willy Wonka? He brought dreams to life with the whimsical and unorthodox. Of all the things she'd seen him make as they grew up, this was well beyond any of it. This place was like home.

When they reached the bottom of the stair, William turned sharply to face them, holding his arms out and the gesturing for them to go explore.

Clara grabbed Jacqueline's hand and pulled. "Come on, mom!"

Jacqueline's first treat was the grass itself, gently ripping it free, and running her fingers down it. It felt so real that she worried it was a prank. But Clara ripped up some herself and popped it in her mouth and grinned widely. Jacqueline warily popped a taste herself. The flavor of apple and mint washed on her tongue along with _something_ _else_ she tried to place. It had to be something green.

 _"There is no_

 _life I know_

 _to compare with pure imagination_

 _living there_

 _you'll be free_

 _if you truly wish to be."_

But that wasn't going to be their only candy. Clara grabbed Jacqueline's hand, pulling her along saying that they were going to try one of everything. Picking atop the gold and red mushroom, swirling the cream spot on top with their finger and tasting. He'd added honey and cranberry. Then the rainbow tree with small grape-sized morsels that Jacqueline popped into her mouth. Strawberry. She gave her daughter a look that strayed her away from those. Clara nodded and ate the yellow ones.

 _"If you want to view paradise_

 _simply look around and view it._

 _anything you want to_

 _do it_

 _wanna change the world?_

 _there's nothing_

 _to it._

 _There is no_

 _life I know to compare with_

 _pure imagination_

 _living there_

 _you'll be free_

 _if you truly_

 _wish to be."_

A world of dreams. Of sights and smells and scents and colors that were found nowhere else in the world. All here. All in Willy Wonka's factory. All in his dreams. And in his reality. Jacqueline hoped she never had to leave.

* * *

Jacqueline stared curiously at what she had no other name for than lemon drops hanging from one of the trees. But lemons drops were pure yellow and did not have a ring of brown around them.

"I see you've found my chocolate lemon drops."

Jacqueline turned to see William step up behind her, his cane propped on his shoulder. She chuckled, turning back to the bite-sized candies. "I think I guessed that. So you finally figured out that thirty year dilemma?"

William chuckled, stepping forward and plucking two from their branches. "It only took a couple decades. Let's try it again."

Jacqueline took the drop. "How is it best eaten?" she decided to ask.

"It's chewable," William humored her.

Slowly, Jacqueline brought it to her lips, popping it into her mouth and biting into it. First, the tartness of lemon splayed on her tongue, and then was covered again by a flush of chocolate. The two flavors meshed and melded in her mouth. The lemon flavor was softer than the usual lemon drop, a bit like lemon pastry, and didn't overpower the chocolate, and it was perfectly melted but still thick and solid.

"I take it I've succeeded," William commented.

Indeed, Jacqueline couldn't help but sigh at the taste. What made her cringe and gag in the past, now she wanted another. "I greatly approve."

"I'm glad," William replied. They both held each others' gazes for several heartbeats before they both tried speaking at the same time.

"Sorry," William apologized, "you go first."

Jacqueline thought on just what she was going to say. Looking away from him and to their brilliant surroundings, she simply went for that. "This place is amazing. Like a dream."

"Well, I did say this is where my realities become dreams," he replied with a smile, gesturing around with his cane.

"And you always were a dreamer," Jacqueline mused. The softly sweet air still permeated around her and bright colors were everywhere. How long it must've taken to make this place she couldn't imagine.

"When I read that Clara had found a Golden Ticket, I couldn't believe the coincidence," William said, stepping down the path. Jacqueline walked at his side.

"Well, she did promise that she'd find one," Jacqueline joked. "But even if she didn't, I wanted to at least try to come and see you. Perhaps when the tour was over, you'd no longer be a recluse. You wouldn't have turned me away, right?"

"Of course not," William told her. "In fact, I thought of seeing you after all this was over."

"Really?" Jacqueline smiled at that. "Well, we didn't have to wait that long now, did we?"

"No, we did not," William replied. "Not when you had one child in the race."

"Well, if you put it that way, I had three," Jacqueline joked.

"You have other children?" William inquired, his brow lifted slightly.

"No!" Jacqueline denied. "No, it's only Clara."

"You couldn't have the five kids you always dreamed of?" William decided to chip in some humor.

Jacqueline cackled. "Not even!" William chuckled beside her. "I was talking about Clara's friends. When they told me about the contest, they came insisting that they'd bring me with them should they find the tickets."

"Instead of their own parents?"

Jacqueline nodded. "Well, from time to time, they do call us Mom and Dad."

William's face fell and he stopped. "I'm so sorry about Roger. I didn't..."

Jacqueline shook her head, not wanting to go into that on a day like this, especially once his face lost some of its brightness. "Don't worry about it-"

"How can I not?" William replied. "Not only have we not spoken in a decade, but I didn't give condolences when your husband died."

Jacqueline shrugged. "You've been busy."

"How do you know that?"

"William." She gripped his shoulder. "It's in the past." She shrugged again. "We're here now, and you're showing me around your factory for the first time with my daughter. This is a happy day."

William let out a humorless chuckle. "It is, isn't it?" He took in a deep breath and the twinkle came back to his eyes.

* * *

Clara searched for her mother, almost calling for her when she spotted her with Willy Wonka. She stopped herself, seeing the two smile at each other. She couldn't hear their conversation but it had to be a nice one with the smiling they were doing.

It was odd to see her mother on such friendly terms with the greatest candy-maker in the world. Clara never doubted her mother when she said she was old friends with Willy Wonka, but now it was certain. The easy way in which they spoke and the beaming smiles said it all.

She saw Mr. Wonka hold out his arm to her mother, who took it and walked with him through the chocolate room. Clara also didn't think her mom was lying when she said her and Mr. Wonka were never in love. But that had been when they were kids and when she fell in love with Daddy. Now they were meeting after so long and in a new time.

Clara sighed. Perhaps there would be a lot more discovered during this tour than just treats.

"Clara."

She turned to see Charlie holding a red ball in the shape of an apple. "It's delicious. And it's got all the red flavors; cherry, raspberry, strawberry. I think there's some cranberry in there too."

Clara shook her head. "I'm allergic to strawberry," she said. Charlie's face fell. "Have you tried the lemon lillies?" she asked. Charlie shook his head. "Come on," she gestured him back to the flower bush.

* * *

Arm in arm, Jacqueline and William made their way back to the others, who began grouping by the river. Jacqueline had noticed the waterfall upon entering the room and took note of the deep, rich brown color that cascaded down over the rocks and flowed downstream.

"What a dirty, disgusting river," Mrs. Gloop commented in her thick accent.

"It's industrial waste, that," Mr. Salt added. "You've ruined your watershed, Wonka. It's polluted."

William glanced at Jacqueline and they shared a look. They'd forgotten what he'd said upon entering. _Everything here is edible._ Would he really risk contamination in his glorious candy room?

But he simply answered them anyway. "It's chocolate."

They all turned in shock. "That's chocolate!?" Veruca exclaimed.

"That's chocolate," Charlie wondered in amazement.

"A chocolate river," Violet murmured.

"That's the most fantastic thing I've ever seen," Mr. Bucket said.

"I would gladly swim in that," Clara said. The group stared at her incredulously. She shrugged at them. "What?"

"Seeing as this is my chocolate store that goes into my chocolate bars, I suggest you don't," William replied with a dry smile. Clara beamed up at him.

Jacqueline glanced up at him. "This is all of your chocolate?"

He nodded. "It produces ten thousand gallons an hour." He pointed his cane up at the waterfall. "And look at my waterfall. That's the most important thing. It's mixing my chocolate. It's actually _churning_ my chocolate!" Beside him, Jacqueline let out a small 'wow'. "You know, no other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall. But it's the only way to get it just right."

It definitely explained why the texture and quality of a Wonka bar was like no other. It used nature's way of mixing instead of hand done.

"Grandpa!" Charlie exclaimed, pointing across the river. "Look over there! Across the river! They're little men!"

"Jumping crocodiles, Charlie!" Mr. Bucket cried. The group clamored as close to the edge as they could to get a look of Charlie's discovery. On the other side of the river, there were a small handful of little men that couldn't be more than four feet tall. They looked completely human except for their orange skin, green hair, and white eyebrows. Jacqueline looked up shockingly at William, but he kept his calm demeanor. "These are your mysterious workers, then." He just smiled in reply.

"I never saw anybody with an orange face before," Mr. Salt said.

"What are they doing?" Mrs. Teavee wondered.

"It must be creaming and sugaring time," William answered. It seemed obvious as the little workers were dumping and mixing cream and sugar.

"They can't be real people!" Violet insisted.

"Of course they're real people," William answered her.

"Stuff and nonsense!" Mr Salt scoffed.

"No, they're Oompa Loompas," William told them. The whole group exclaimed at him, Jacqueline and Clara included. He nodded. "From Loopaland."

"Loompaland?" Mrs. Teavee exclaimed. "There's no such place!"

"Excuse me, dear lady-"

"Mr. Wonka," the lady pressed haugtily. "I am a teacher of geography."

"Oh, well then you must know all about it and what a terrible country it is," William replied. A terrible country? And he _went there_? When? "Nothing but desolate wastes and fierce beasts." He went on to tell how the Oompa Loompas were the lowest on the food-chain in Loompaland, getting eaten up by all sorts of odd-named creatures. Upon meeting them and learning that they revered the cocoa bean of which chocolate is made, William offered them refuge in his factory where they could eat all the cocoa they desired. Here they were safe from the many predators they feared.

"Those poor Oompa Loompas," Clara muttered.

"Snozzwangers?" Mr. Salt sneered. "Vermicious Knids? What kind of rubbish is that?"

"I'm sorry, but all questions must be submitted in writing," William quipped. Jacqueline was tempted to ask if she should get out her notebook from her purse. "And so, in the greatest of secrecy I transported the entire population of Oompa Loompas to my factory."

"Daddy, I want an Oompa Loompa!" Veruca demanded. "I want you to get me an Oompa Loompa right away!"

"Alright, Veruca, alright," Mr. Salt absentmindedly promised. "I'll get you one before the day is out."

"I want an Oompa Loompa now!" Veruca wailed.

"Can it, you nit!" Both Violet and Clara shouted at her. Veruca glared at the two of them and glared as she continued eating her taffy leaf.

"Hey Grandpa, look at Augustus!" Charlie called, pointing just down the river.

William looked and stiffened, taking his arm from Jacqueline's and hurrying over through the group. Jacqueline saw the young boy scooping the melted chocolate with his hand and into his mouth! "No no nonono, Augustus, my chocolate must not be touched by human hands!" William called. He shoved his way through the others, trying to get to Augustus and shouting all the way. "Please, don't do that! You're contaminating my river. Please, I beg you! Augustus!" But he was too little too late as the young boy fell face first into the river.

"My chocolate!" William cried.

"Help!" Augustus cried out. His mother also cried out for him.

"My chocolate!" William exclaimed in horror. "My beautiful chocolate!"

Mrs. Gloop nudged him. "Don't just stand there! Do something!"

William turned a glare at her. "Help. Police. Murder," he deadpanned.

"Quick Charlie, here!" Mr. Bucket handed his grandson one of the large lollipops for him to hold out to Augustus. Jacqueline held the boy's shoulders, not wanting him to fall in as well. But it did not good as Augustus's hands slipped from it and sunk below the surface.

"What's happening to him?"

"It looks like he's drowning!"

"Dive in! Save him!"

"Oh, it's too late," William mused, his panic and outrage suddenly gone."He's in for it now. The suction's got him."

"What suction?"

William pointed to thick tube in the middle of the chocolate river that was sucking up chocolate by the gallon.

Jacqueline looked to Clara at her shoulder. "You still want to swim in that?"

Clara shrugged, not looking away from the tube. "I'm a strong swimmer."

"Augustus, come back!" Mrs. Gloop cried.

"How long is he going to stay down, Daddy?"

"He can't swim!"

Jacqueline looked to William, placing a hand on his arm. Couldn't he do something? He looked at her and held up a finger to tell her to wait. "There's no better time to learn," he answered.

Jacqueline shook her head. "This isn't like the time my brother tossed you into the lake when you refused to swim, William." She looked back to the pipe, seeing air pockets in the chocolate as it went up. Then the flash of a coat! Augustus! "He's inside the pipe!" she cried, pointing up to him.

"Call a plumber!"

"It's his stomach that's got him stuck up there, isn't it?"

"He's blocking all the chocolate!"

"What happens now?"

"The pressure will get him out," William said. "Terrific pressure is building up underneath him." The group waited in tense silence as they watched for Augustus to finally shoot out. However, it might be better for him to stay. At least he wasn't submerged. At least he could breathe as he cried for help. "The suspense is terrible! I hope it'll last!" He eagerly took another bite of chocolate. He seemed far too excited.

Jacqueline nudged him with her elbow. "Don't forget, it was me who pushed you back up on the dock," she hissed. "Can't you take this a bit more seriously?"

"There's enough worry to go around here," he answered. "My two cents isn't necessary, my dear."

She rolled her eyes. "It's like Eric Sanders all over again." That old bully from elementary school who used to steal their candy store money. William had gotten back at him though.

"He deserves it."

He wasn't saying...Jacqueline's mouth dropped open as she was about to berate William when Mrs. Gloop cired out. "He's gone!" She turned to William. "He'll be made into marshmallows in five seconds!"

"Impossible, my dear lady!" William snapped back. "That's absurd! Unthinkable!"

"Why?"

"Because that pipe doesn't go to the marshmallow room! It goes to the fudge room!" William told her. Jacqueline had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She could never stay mad at him for long. His dry humor always broke up their small squabbles quicker than they started. William then reached into his coat and pulled out a small pipe whistle and played a short melody.

An Oompa Loompa immediately approached and William knelt down to speak to him. "Take Mrs. Gloop straight to the fudge room, but look sharp, or her little boy is liable to get poured into the boiler."

Jacqueline jabbed him in the ribs. He needed to quit while he was still alive! Don't mess with a mother when it comes to her children!

"You've boiled him up, I know it!"

Jacqueline placed herself between William and Mrs. Gloop so the woman wouldn't get a clear shot of pushing him into the chocolate river and sending him after her son. She had a bit of help as the Oompa Loopa pulled at Mrs. Gloop's skirt and pulled her away.

"Nihil desperandum, dear lady!" William called out from behind Jacqueline. "Across the desert lies the promised land." Oh no. He was not making this any better! "Goodbye , Mrs. Gloop! Adieu! Auf wiedersehen! Gesundheit! Farewell!"

Jacqueline turned around and poked William in the chest. "That boy better end up okay!" she muttered. Gluttonous or not, she didn't want him ending up as fudge.

He was about to respond, but then turned towards to Oompa Loompas across the way who began to _sing!_

 _"Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do_

 _I have a perfect puzzle for you_

 _Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do_

 _if you are wise, you'll listen to me._

 _What do you get when you guzzle down sweets?_

 _Eating as much as an elephant eats_

 _what are you at, getting terribly fat?_

 _What do you think will come of that?_

 _I don't like the look of it!_

 _Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-da_

 _if you're not greedy, you will go far_

 _you will live in happiness too_

 _like the Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do."_

The Oompa Loompas finished their creaming and sugaring the chocolate river and were headed back into the stone wall that actually opened. The last one, as it made it to the door, turned back at them and sang one last diddy. _"Doom-pa-dee-do."_

They group was silent for several heartbeats. "I take it they like to sing," Clara finally broke through.


End file.
